


True North

by Jaiden_S



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Action & Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:20:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28717191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaiden_S/pseuds/Jaiden_S
Summary: The compass Bucky gave Steve for his birthday was broken. Instead of pointing north, the needle pointed toward Bucky. Maybe Bucky was his True North?This is the happy ending that they didn't get in Endgame.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 9
Kudos: 73





	True North

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kalika_999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts).



> This fic is a very late addition to Marvel Trumps Hate 2020 and is written for Kalika_999. She requested Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes and magical realism. I took the opportunity to write a different ending for the pair after the unsatisfying ending they had in Endgame.

Title: True North  
Author – Jaiden S  
Fandom – MCU/Captain America  
Pairing – Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes  
Rating – R  
Summary – Bucky is Steve’s True North.

Bucky ran his hand across his forehead for the millionth time. His hair stuck to the back of his neck. A little bead of sweat tickled him as it rolled down the center of his back. July in Brooklyn was always sweltering, but today blazed in a whole new level of hot. Heat rose up from the blacktopped street, filtering everything with a wavy haze. He’d much rather be sitting on a shady porch sipping a glass of cool lemonade and fanning himself with last Sunday’s church program. Any other day, he’d be doing exactly that, but tomorrow was his best friend Steve’s birthday and he’d put off getting a present until right now, the hottest damned day of the year. 

Not that surprising Steve with a gift would have been easy on any other day of the year. Part of the problem was that Steve rarely left his side. They were always together. Wherever Bucky went, Steve tagged along, and wherever Steve roamed, Bucky followed so that he could be sure the punk actually made it back home. That boy had no sense of direction. He could get lost on a one way, dead-end street. It was a talent.

Vic’s Five and Dime store was only a few blocks away from home. Steve and Bucky visited whenever they had spare change in their pockets from hanging laundry for Steve’s ma or from sweeping Bucky’s porch. Mr. Vic knew them both by name.

“Bucky!” Vic’s booming baritone voice rang out. He stepped out from behind the register, wiped his hand on his pants and held it out for Bucky to shake. “Hot one, ain’t it?”

“Yessir, Mr. Vic.” Mr. Vic was the only grown-up who offered to shake Bucky’s hand. It made him feel very grown up. Bucky stood up as tall as he could, threw his shoulders back and shook Mr. Vic’s enthusiastically. 

“Whatcha need? Soda pop? Lemon ice? I know lemon’s your favorite,” Mr Vic said with a grin.

Bucky shook his head. “Nothin’ for me. I’m here to get a birthday present for Steve. He turns twelve tomorrow.”

“So that’s why your shadow’s not with you,” chuckled Vic. “I know just the thing. I have a new batch of comics hot off the press. Haven’t even put them on the rack yet, but I’ll let you have first look.”

Bucky’s brow creased. “Comic books are for little kids, Mr. Vic. Steve’ll be twelve. He’s practically grown!”

“I see,” Vic replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “A gift for someone who’s nearly grown. Let’s look around.”

The store was long and narrow, with high ceilings and suspended fans that were whirring non-stop. Since the windows along the front let in a lot of heat, the air in the back felt cooler, so that’s the direction Bucky headed. Along the rear wall was a glass counter where Vic kept the items that cost more than a dime. Bucky placed both hands on the top of the glass and peered down into it. Watches and clocks. Snuff boxes and pocket knives. Heart-shaped lockets and keychains. Nothing really seemed right for Steve. He huffed out a sigh of frustration. “None of these seem like Steve.”

Vic leaned against the counter and gave Bucky a very serious look. “Then we should keep searching. A twelfth birthday gift is very important. What does Steve like to do besides read comic books?”

Bucky lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I dunno. Draw. Play cops and robbers. Pretend to be a pirate.”

“Aha! I have just the thing!” Vic ducked into the backroom and rummaged about for a few minutes before popping back out wearing a self-satisfied smile. “Here. The best gift in a world for a twelve-year-old young man who likes pirates: a compass. Every true pirate needs one to guide his ship back home.” 

Bucky held out his hand and Vic placed the brass compass in his palm. It was heavy. His dad always said that quality pieces had weight to them, so Bucky reckoned the compass must be very nice. He pressed the button on the upper part of the case and the lid popped open to reveal arrows and directional letters and a red needle that moved when he turned. “Wow,” he breathed.

“Any young man would be proud to carry that,” Vic said. “It’s top of the line. Best there is.”

The best? That meant it was probably expensive. Bucky’s face fell. “I wish I could get it,” he said quietly, “but all I have is a quarter.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” boomed Vic, “because that’s exactly how much it costs!”

“No joking?” Bucky’s eyes grew wide. “A quarter?”

“And not one cent less. A man has to make a living, you know.”

Thrilled, Bucky fished a quarter out of his pocket and pressed it into Vic’s outstretched hand. “Thanks, Mr. Vic.”

“Don’t mention it, Buck.” He beamed from behind the counter. “You know how to use it? The needle always points to the North, no matter which direction you’re facing.”

Bucky nodded, grinning from ear-to-ear, and slipped the compass into his pocket. “Got it! Thanks again, Mr. Vic!”

“Always happy to make a sale, Bucky. Wish Steve a very happy birthday for me.”

“Will do!” Bucky dashed back out the door, brimming with excitement. Steve was going to love it!

~*~

“What is it?” Steve turned the brass compass over in his hand and stared at it like it was an ancient hieroglyph that needed deciphering. 

“It’s a compass, you lug,” Bucky said, shoving Steve’s shoulder with his elbow. “Give it here and I’ll show you.”

Bucky’s dad had given him a crash course in using a compass, so he repeated what he’d learned to Steve. “Hold the compass like this,” he said, holding it at chest height, “and turn until you’re facing North like so.”

Steve raised up on his toes and peered around Bucky’s shoulder. Sure enough, the compass was pointing straight ahead. “That’s swell! So, the Norton’s house is to the North.”

“From here, it is, yeah. Here, you try it.”

Steve held it out in front of him just like he’d seen Bucky do and twisted around toward the Norton’s house. The needle stubbornly refused to point that direction. “I think it’s broken.”

“It’s not broken,” Bucky laughed, taking it back from Steve. “Watch.” He held it out like before and the red needle again pointed toward the Norton’s house. “It’s fine. User error is all.”

“Hardy har har,” grumbled Steve, snatching it back. This time, when he held it in front of him, it did point toward the Norton’s house…until Bucky stepped out of the way and the needle followed him. Steve blinked. The needle didn’t point North. The needle pointed at Bucky. No matter which way Steve turned, the little red line aimed right for Bucky. Definitely broken.

“Got the hang of it?” Bucky smiled hopefully.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got it,” Steve said, snapping the case shut. He didn’t have the heart to tell Bucky that it didn’t work. “It’s great. Thanks!”

Bucky looped his arm around Steve’s shoulders and gave him a hug. “Anything for my best bud.”

~*~

The next day, while Bucky was at baseball practice, Steve snuck down to Vic’s Five and Dime, compass in his pocket. He’d scarcely set foot inside the door when he heard Mr. Vic bellow a greeting. “Steven! Happy belated birthday,” he boomed, stepping around the counter to wrap Steve up in a bear hug. “Where is your sidekick?”

Steve stumbled a bit when Vic released him, but caught himself before he tumbled backwards onto the wooden floor. “Bucky’s at baseball practice.” He smoothed his shirt, which had wrinkled when Mr. Vic crushed him, then reached into his pocket to retrieve the compass. “That’s why I’m here.” It gleamed brightly on the palm of his hand.

Mr. Vic deflated. “You don’t like it? Bucky picked it out special, just for you.”

“No, no,” Steve quickly clarified. “I like it lots, but…well, it doesn’t work.”

“Whaddya mean, it doesn’t work?” Mr. Vic snatched it out of Steve’s hand, popped open the case and held it out. “Works just fine. See? The needle points north, and that way is north,” he said, gesturing with his left hand.

“But it won’t work for me,” Steve said miserably. “It points every which-a-way, and half the time, it points at Bucky.”

“Oh. _Oh_ ,” said Mr. Vic with a knowing glint in his eye. “I didn’t recognize it when I sold it to Bucky, but this is a special compass. A true treasure hunter’s compass. Instead of pointing to the actual North, it points to whatever it is that you truly desire. For some, it’s gold or silver, but for you, it’s your pal, Bucky.”

Steve looked skeptical. “Bucky?”

“Where would you normally be right now?”

“Sitting at home on the porch, waiting for Bucky to finish up baseball practice.” Realization slowly dawned in Steve’s eyes, and his lips curled into a sheepish grin.

“As I suspected.” Mr. Vic handed the compass back to Steve. “What you want most is to be with Bucky.”

“Friends to the end, through thick and thin,” Steve said, patting his concave tummy. “I’m the thin.”

“Ah, you’re still growing. I’ve no doubt you’ll turn out to be quite the strapping young man,” Mr. Vic said with conviction, “and handsome enough to make all the girls swoon.”

Steve doubted that, but he smiled anyway. Like his Ma always said, never refuse a complement.

~*~

Mr. Vic had foisted a few pieces of steeply discounted candy off on Steve, stating that they were not selling well and that he needed to get rid of them. Steve didn’t buy that excuse for a second, but he wasn’t going to turn down cheap candy. He unwrapped a piece of butterscotch, popped it in his mouth and reached into his pocket for the compass. Would it really take him right to Bucky or was tale of it being a treasure hunter’s compass nothing but a bunch of baloney? Steve pressed the lever to open the case and looked down at the slender red needle. The sun was beginning to sink toward the horizon. As long as he kept the sun on his left, he’d be heading north. Sure enough, when he turned that direction, the red needle followed. 

“Huh. Seems to work just fine. Maybe it really was me.”

Encouraged, he walked in a northerly direction, sticking to the sidewalks and detouring around buildings, but making certain to keep an eye on both the sun and the direction of the needle. So far, so good. When he got close to the ballfield, though, the compass needle swung wildly to the right.

Steve shaded his eyes and squinted at the irritating little needle. “No. No, that’s east.” Just to double-check, he glanced to his left. As he suspected, the sun hadn’t moved. It was still right there in the west. The compass needle, though, had decided that east was the new north.

“What if…?” Steve decided to follow the compass and see where it took him. It swung wildly every few yards. Steve kept his eyes locked on it, only glancing up to keep from tripping over a crack in the sidewalk or falling off the curb.

“Hiya, Punk! What are you doing here?”

Steve’s head jerked up and his eyes widened. Bucky. The crazy compass actually found him.

“I…I’m trying my compass out again,” stammered Steve, gobsmacked that Mr. Vic had been right.

“Yeah? That’s great,” beamed Bucky. He wiped his hand across his forehead, leaving a smear of dirt on his skin. “You just needed some practice is all.” Laughing, he looped his arm around Steve’s neck and pulled him into a sweaty hug. “Come on. Let’s go home. Ma made lemonade this morning.”

~*~  
_Six years later_

“I report in the morning,” said Bucky. “The 107th.”

“The 107th?” Steve’s voice stuttered. His Pa had been in the 107th regiment in World War I. The Germans attacked them when they were sent to defend the western front, and most of the soldiers were killed, including Joseph Rogers. And now Bucky was joining the same regiment. Steve’s blood ran cold. No, not the 107th. Any other regiment but the 107th. He took a deep, shuddering breath and stared down at his shoes because he knew if he looked at Bucky, he wouldn’t be able to keep his composure.

“Hey,” Bucky said, dropping his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Nothing bad will happen to me, I promise, so no worrying.”

Steve nodded but didn’t raise his eyes.

“C’mon, Steve. Don’t be upset. It’s my last night here before I ship out, so let’s celebrate. ”

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, hoping the pain would override the tears that threatened to well up, and slowly raised his eyes.

Bucky grinned, full of the bravado and confidence of youth, and swung an arm around Steve’s neck.

“Alright,” Steve relented. “Where are we going?”

Bucky shoved a flyer advertising the Stark Expo against Steve’s chest. “To the future.”

~*~

Over the course of the night, Steve tried unsuccessfully to enlist in the Army…for the fourth time. That had to be some kind of pathetic record. After the Army’s inevitable rejection at the Expo, he’d been so forlorn that he’d wallowed in self-pity while his best friend Bucky went out on his last night in Brooklyn without him. While he was busy moping, a scientist, Dr. Erskine, invited him to join Project Rebirth and offered him a chance – only a chance – to be a soldier. Steve eagerly agreed.

The next morning, he yawned, stretched long in the bed and then sat up with a start. Today was Bucky’s last day in town and he hadn’t said goodbye! He leapt out of bed, threw on last night’s clothes and dashed over to Bucky’s house just as he was loading his suitcase into the cab.

Bucky grinned at him, bleary-eyed and slightly green. “You look like you fought with the pillow and the pillow won.” He slammed the trunk closed and leaned back against it.

Steve ran his hand over his mussed hair with a sheepish smile. “You look like you drowned in a bottle of whiskey.”

Bucky chuckled and then winced slightly, rubbing at his left temple. “I would never drown in a bottle of whiskey the night before I shipped out. It was vodka.” 

The cabby, seated in the cab, gunned the engine and pointedly cleared his throat. “I ain’t got all day, ladies.”

“Buck.” Steve threw himself into his best friend’s arms and hugged him tightly. “What am I going to do without you?”

“Stay out of trouble, that’s what, ‘cause I won’t be here to bail your skinny ass out.” Bucky gave Steve a clap on the back and released him.

“That’ll be easy since you’re taking all the trouble with you.” Steve’s smile faltered a bit, but he was determined not to break down. Not now.

“I’ll be back before you know it, Punk.” Bucky climbed into the back seat of the cab and gave Steve one last wave.

“You’d better be, Jerk, or I’ll come find you.” 

Steve watched the cab from the edge of the curb until it turned the corner and disappeared. Maybe he should have told Bucky that he, too, was shipping out to join the Army. According to his papers, he was to report to Camp Lehigh in two days. He’d reasoned, though, that he’d probably fail the physical test again and be sent home, so why even mention it? 

~*~

_Eighteen months later, US Army outpost, Italy_

Steve had never felt more useless. Even when he was still skinny and frail, he prided himself on his strength of spirit even if he couldn’t fight as well as anyone else. Today, though, he’d been nothing but a farce. A sideshow act. A dancing monkey in a garish outfit. He sat on the edge of a cot in a mostly empty tent, doodling mindlessly in his sketchbook, trying to not think about how the men had booed him off stage only a couple of hours earlier.

For months, he'd begged and pleaded and tried desperately to convince anyone who would listen that he was meant to be more than a set of oversized muscles in a pair of tights. He should be out there fighting. He should be wearing drab green, not stars and stripes. It was the least he could do when other men were dying on the front lines.

His catalyst for action, though came from an unlikely source: Peggy Carter.

“Here you are, holed up in a tent, feeling sorry for yourself.”

Steve didn’t even look up. “You know for the longest time I dreamed about coming overseas and being on the front lines. Serving my country. I finally get everything I wanted, and I’m wearing tights.”

“These men have been through more than most. Two hundred men went up against Schmidt on the front lines and less than fifty returned. Your audience contained what was left of the 107th. The rest were killed or captured.”

“What?! The 107th?!”

Steve was on his feet instantly. That was Bucky’s unit…but where was Bucky? If Bucky had been in the crowd, he’d have been the first one to cat-call or heckle, and the first one to throw a punch if anyone _else_ had dared to cat-call or heckle. He was missing.

He dashed through the pouring rain to the command tent, demanding answers but receiving only a muttered condolence. But Bucky wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. Steve clenched his jaw. Bucky was out there somewhere waiting on him, and Steve would find him. He had just the thing.

~*~

The leap out of Stark’s airplane was less frightening than Steve imagined it would be. The landing, though, hurt like hell, and he fell to his knees for a moment to catch his breath. Once he’d found his feet again, he pulled out his compass and lifted a quick prayer that it would still work like it used to when he was a kid. The red needle spun like a pinwheel in a fierce breeze until it came to rest on the E. 

“East, then,” Steve said. “Hang on, Buck. I’m coming.”

He trudged through scrabbled underbrush, dodging wayward branches, splashing through puddles of mud, holding his shield up against the driving downpour. Every step he took was a prayer. _Please be okay. Please be alive. Please let me find you._

A wave of relief washed over him when he spotted a shadowy glimpse of transport vehicle headed due east. He lowered his head against the relentless rainstorm and dashed toward the truck, hopped over the tailgate and landed with a soft thud on the truck bed…right next to some German soldiers. 

“Fellas,” he nodded. The speed of his attack took the soldiers by surprise, and after a few short minutes, he’d dispatched with all of them, tossing the ones he could out the rear of the transport. The rest were knocked out cold.

The Hydra base was huge, with sprawling wings and a tower that gleamed darkly in the moonlight, the whole thing much larger than Steve had anticipated. He ducked behind a tank and checked his compass again. This time, the needle swung to the south, so he headed toward the building on his right. Though the entrance was guarded, Steve took the guard out with one well-placed punch to the jaw and slipped inside.

The compass directed him to the left, and he followed a labyrinth of hallways which led to a long corridor lined with holding cells. Bucky had to be in one of them. The compass needle still pointed left, but off to his right, he saw movement. The rest of the 107th? He gritted his teeth. If there were men being held, he couldn’t leave them. Bucky would have to wait for another few minutes.

As he moved down the row, he opened each cell, asking the men about Bucky Barnes. Nobody seemed to know where he was until he reached the last one. A man with a bushy mustache said that one of the scientists had taken him to a laboratory. 

“Go on without me! I need to find Bucky,” he said as he held open the cell door.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” The man eyed his red and blue suit with open skepticism. 

“Yeah. I’ve punched out Hitler over 100 times,” Steve quipped. 

He left the men to create a diversion and blow up whatever they could manage to find, and he retraced his steps, following the needle of compass back to where the hallways diverged. The needle pointed to a dark, narrow hallway off to the left that stretched toward infinity. Steve crept slowly forward, carefully opening each closed door that he found, shield clutched in a sweaty hand. With each empty room, his heart sank a little bit more. Finally, in a laboratory room near the end of the hallway, Steve spotted a lone soldier strapped to a table, repeating the same phrase over and over again. Even though he couldn’t make out the words, he’d know that voice anywhere.

He dashed into the room, dropping his shield to the floor and fumbling with the leather straps that were attached to the long metal table. “Bucky! Bucky, it’s Steve,” he cried, his voice shaking with relief. “I thought you were dead!”

“Steve?” Bucky blinked incoherently as his eyes turned toward the sound of Steve’s voice. “Steve!”

Bucky stumbled into Steve’s arms, his body weak from whatever tests Hydra had run on him, and he raised his head to quizzically look up at Steve. “I thought you were smaller. What happened to you?”

Steve grinned sheepishly. “I joined the army,” he said grabbing his shield from where he’d dropped it. 

Bucky took a shaky step forward, but his feet wouldn’t quite work, so he leaned into Steve. “Did it hurt?”

“A little.” Steve wrapped an arm around Bucky and guided him down the hallway toward the exit.

“Is it permanent?” Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes off Steve.

Steve felt his cheeks flush under the scrutiny of those curious blue eyes. “So far.”

As it turned out, escaping the Hydra base was much more difficult than sneaking inside, despite the explosive distractions that the rest of the 107th had created. Steve managed to guide them both out of the main building – with no help whatsoever from his compass, which doggedly swung toward Bucky – and meet up with the rest of the fellas. Most of the Hydra troops had scattered, and those who hadn’t fled were locked into the same cells that had held the men from the 107th. “Serves ‘em right,” Steve said as he locked the last of the doors.

Although the rain had slacked to a mere drizzle, the night air had a chill. The Allied encampment was miles away, and the men were exhausted. Once they were safely away from the Hydra base, Steve insisted they make camp right there, at least for a few hours. Several of the men objected. “It’s not safe. We’re still too close to the Hydra base,” argued the man with the mustache.

“It’ll be fine,” Steve countered, “and some of us are injured. Give everyone a couple of hours to catch their breath, and then we’ll get moving. I’ll stand watch and walk the perimeter just in case there are any Hydra soldiers tracking us.”

“I’ll go with you,” Bucky said, much to Steve’s chagrin.

“You need to rest, too,” Steve argued, giving Bucky a look of concern.

“I’m fine, Steve, I promise.”

And, truthfully, Bucky did look fine, other than a couple of scrapes and bruises. “Alright, but we’ll stick together. No arguments.”

Bucky flashed a charming grin. “Where’m I gonna go? South of France?”

Steve chuckled and shook his head. “I’m glad nothing has changed with you.”

They walked slowly, circling around behind where the rest of the men were sitting. “But a lot has changed with you,” Bucky said, giving Steve a slow once-over. “A _lot_. How exactly did this happen? And don’t give me that ‘I joined the Army’ line. I joined way before you did and I’m not a foot taller.”

Steve sighed heavily. “I volunteered for an experiment.”

Bucky stopped in his tracks, gave Steve an exasperated look and then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course you did. You swore to me that you wouldn’t do anything stupid, and then you fucking _volunteer_ to be a labrat.” He raised his eyes and speared Steve right in the chest with an angry glare. “What is it with you? It’s like you’re a magnet for stupid ideas.”

“It wasn’t stupid, Buck. It was the right thing to do, and I couldn’t say no.” He gazed at Bucky with pleading eyes. “All I’ve ever wanted to do was be a soldier. Hold my own in a fight. Contribute something worthwhile. Now, I can.”

Bucky shook his head. “You also could have died.” He blinked rapidly and looked away, swiping his hand over his watery eyes. “And if anything had happened to you, I don’t know what I would have done.”

Steve’s heart rose in his throat. He grabbed Bucky’s hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “But I’m fine. I’m better than fine. I’m the perfect soldier…or so they say.”

Bucky snuffled and looked Steve right in the eyes. “You were perfect the way you were.”

“A 90 pound weakling with asthma and allergies?” Steve huffed out a wry laugh. “Right.”

“You were perfect to me.” 

Steve’s eyebrows rose as he felt heat flush his cheeks. “I…”

Bucky grinned, sheepish and lopsided. “If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it ‘til the day I die. Punk.”

Steve laughed out loud and pulled Bucky into a fierce hug. “Jerk.” It felt right being in Bucky’s arms. Like it was where he belonged. He held on tight, waiting for Bucky to clap him on the back as a signal to release him, but it never came. Instead, Bucky pressed his nose against the side of Steve’s neck and sighed softly.

“Bucky?” Without even thinking, Steve ran his hand up and down Bucky’s back like he’d done when they were kids and Bucky had lost a fight.

“I didn’t know if I’d see you again,” Bucky mumbled into Steve’s collar. “I thought I was going to die in there, and I’d never get to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Steve’s hand stopped traveling and landed on the small of Bucky’s back. The question he’d asked was rhetorical. It was the same thing he’d wanted to tell Bucky since they were kids.

“You know,” came Bucky’s muffled reply. His arms tightened around Steve’s neck.

“Yeah, I do,” Steve admitted feeling his cheeks flush again. “Same for me.”

Bucky pulled back just far enough to blink his pale blue eyes up at Steve. “Second chances don’t come ‘round often.” He swallowed and gave Steve a lopsided grin. “I love you, Punk. I loved you when you were skinny and sick. I loved you when you were more mouth than body. I loved you when you were hard-headed and picked fights you never could win. I loved everything about you, right down to the cowlick on the back of your head. And, I wanted you to know.”

Steve’s eyes misted. “It’s always been you for me, Buck. You were the sun and I orbited around you, happy to get a ray or two if I could. And when you smiled at me, it was like a summer day. You were everything I wanted. Still are. I love you, too.”

Before Steve could say anything else, Bucky tightened his grip on the back of Steve’s neck and pulled him into a heated kiss. Bucky’s lips were soft and pliant, yet demanding more. When Steve’s lips parted, Bucky’s silky tongue swept into his mouth, stealing his breath away. 

When they parted, breathless and grinning, Steve said, “You should probably stay in my tent for a while. Until you’re fully recovered. Just to be safe.”

Bucky chuckled, his eyes dancing with humor. “Of course. Just to be safe.”

~*~

For the better part of a year, Steve and Bucky were inseparable. Nobody questioned it when they made nightly walks around the perimeter of camp to check for Hydra encroachers. Not an eye was batted when they shared a tent or a bedroll. Despite the fact they were soldiers on the front lines of a bitter and dangerous war, Steve had never loved his life more. Every time the front line gained progress on enemy territory, Steve indulged himself with a fantasy about how he and Bucky would live after the war. They’d move back to Brooklyn, rent a small flat. He’d get a job as an illustrator with the newspaper. Bucky could find an auto shop that needed a good mechanic. It would be wonderful.

Steve’s entire world shattered when Bucky fell from the train, taking his heart and his soul and leaving behind a hollow shell of a man. For days, all he could do was stumble about in a haze of sorrow and disbelief. If he could have found something to ease the pain, he would have drowned himself in it. Alcohol didn’t work. Neither did exercise or sleep or even some pills that one of the Howling Commandos gave him. The only thing that took his mind off of Bucky was work, the more dangerous the job, the better. If he was busy trying to not get killed, he didn’t have time to mourn. Though he still carried the compass with him everywhere he went, he didn’t have the heart to open it and see the red needle pointing due north, unmoving.

That’s how he found himself piloting an airplane full of bombs with no real means of escape. As he stared out at the icy waters near the Artic, he decided that maybe death wouldn’t be so bad. He took his compass out of his pocket and placed it on the instrument dashboard. The needle pointed south, but then, he was already as far north as he could go. 

“Bucky,” he said, choking back a sob, “I’ll see you soon.” A moment later, the plane crashed into the icy water.

~*~

The next time he opened his eyes, Steve found himself in a world he didn’t recognize. Sure, his hospital room was decorated to resemble the 1940’s, but the details were all wrong. He recognized the mistakes immediately. A baseball broadcast from years earlier. A newspaper with print that didn’t color his fingers black. A lamp with some sort of bulb in it that he’d never seen before. Though he didn’t know where he was, he knew he wasn’t in 1940’s Brooklyn. _Hydra._ It had to be Hydra. They’d captured him and were trying to brainwash him.

He’d punched his way out of the facility and dashed out into a congested intersection surrounded by electronic billboards and flashing signs before he realized the truth. He hadn’t been captured by Hydra. He’d leapt forward in time.

Nick Fury found him, collected his belongings, and brought him back to his apartment near the SHIELD headquarters in Manhattan. 

“I don’t understand,” Steve said from his spot on a leather sofa in Fury’s mancave of a study. “I’ve been frozen for over sixty years? I should be dead, or at least look like I’m in my eighties. How am I still young and alive?”

“Don’t know. Not sure I really care. Biology is not my thing,” Fury said, propping his feet up on his desk and arching the eyebrow over his one good eye. “All I know is that you’re here and I need you, Cap. We all do.”

Steve sighed heavily. “I’m just one guy. One very confused, out-of-sorts guy who has no idea what’s happening to him.” 

“I’ll get you caught up. Learning what you missed is the easy part. Read a few books, watch a few movies, study some Youtube videos. The hard part is being a leader, but you’re a natural. No lessons required.”

“I don’t know, Fury. Why would anyone follow me? I’m a relic.”

Fury tilted his head at Steve. “Why did anyone ever follow you? Because you had vision and heart. The Howling Commandos didn’t follow you because they liked the way your suit fit. They followed you because they knew leadership when they saw it.”

“All right,” Steve said with a resigned sigh. “I guess I can at least try.” 

“That’s all I ask.” Fury swung his legs back down to the floor and rose from his chair. “I’ll show you to your bedroom. I think Clint’s already collected your things.”

“My things?” Steve eyed Fury with open curiosity as he followed behind him. Other than his shield and suit, Steve couldn’t imagine what those ‘things’ might be.

The bedroom was large and bright, with a king bed, a desk and large armchair next to a double-paned window. On the far side of the room, a couple of dusty cardboard boxes sat under the window, both sealed with packing tape. Those must be his things.

“Closet is there,” Fury said pointing to the left, “bathroom’s there,” he added pointing to the door on the right. “I took the liberty of buying some clothes for you based on your suit measurements. Take your time, Cap. Settle in. Come find me when you’re ready to know more about the Avengers.” He closed the door behind him when he left.

Steve nodded numbly, his wide eyes sweeping back and forth over his room. First, he peeked in the closet. His suit hung on the right, his shield hanging next to it on a secure hook. An assortment of khaki pants and plaid shirts, oxfords and running shoes, and a soft leather jacket filled the rest of the closet. Not quite his taste, but it would do for now. A dresser next to the closet was full of folded items. Socks, underwear, T-shirts, pajamas. After a cursory inspection, he turned his attention to the dusty boxes in the corner.

He plopped down on the floor next to the first one. _Smithsonian: Captain Steven Grant Rogers_. A wry smile tugged his lips upward. What better place to store the personal belongings of a relic than in an actual museum? He ripped the tape off of the top of the box and spread the flaps wide open. His old USO helmet. Some faded pictures of his mom. A couple of Brooklyn Dodgers programs that were tattered around the edges. A few pieces of clothing that were yellowed and stiff with age.

He took his time going through each box, smiling when a photo elicited a fond memory, swiping away a tear when he saw Bucky’s Medal of Honor that had been awarded posthumously. It took the better part of an hour. Some things he placed back in the box to send back to the Smithsonian. Others he kept for himself, a reminder of his past life. One thing was missing, though: the compass. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. It had been on the dashboard of the plane when he crashed, so it was probably lost forever, buried somewhere below the icy Artic seas. Maybe, though, if he begged, Fury would let him return to the crash site and have a look around himself.

Steve sighed and hauled himself to his feet. The one thing he hadn’t inspected yet was the desk. It was sturdy and wide with three drawers on either side and a long drawer in the middle. A shaded lamp anchored one side while an assortment of notepads and sketch books sat on the other, held in place by a paperweight. Steve had eased himself into rolling desk chair before it dawned on him what he was seeing. It wasn’t a paperweight next to his sketchbooks, it was his compass. He picked it up and cradled it gently in his hands. When the lid popped open, the little red needle spun wildly around under the glass. Steve huffed out a watery chuckle. 

“You don’t know which way to turn, either?” Steve smiled through his tears. “We’re both a couple of broken relics.”

~*~

It was hard to build a new life, harder than Steve had imagined it would be, but he had no choice. What was that old saying? Get to living or get busy dying? He wasn’t ready to die twice, so get to living it was. Joining the Avengers helped. Bruce was kindhearted and witty, when he wasn’t Hulking out and smashing things. Tony loved sarcasm and snark, and his ego was the size of Manhattan, but his heart was in the right place. Clint was fun and quick with a smile. Thor knew all the best pubs and local coffee shops. Natasha, though, was his closest friend. She’d known heartbreak and devastating loss. He could see it in her eyes when she smiled at him. She knew his pain, saw it for what it was, and didn’t flinch.

Over the next few years, the Avengers assembled more frequently than Steve would have thought. Apparently, aliens invaded Earth on a semi-regular basis, and if it wasn’t aliens, then it was a toxic spill caused by one of Hank Pym’s experiments or a legion of giant spiders that crawled through one of Stephen Strange’s cosmic vortexes. There was always something to fight, and Steve was good at fighting. It kept him from thinking about his own disaster of a life.

Generally, the Avengers met up in the Stark Towers on the top floor. Tony set it up like a lounge, with a sleek bar one end, a line of game tables along the far wall and clusters of cozy sofas and armchairs in a darkened corner. That’s where he usually found himself, nursing a whiskey neat on a leather sofa next to Nat.

“How’d your date with April go?” Nat was tucked into the corner of the sofa, her feet stretched on the cushions, and she poked Steve’s thigh with the toe of her boot. “Where’d you take her for dinner?”

Steve sighed and gave Nat a helpless look. “Nowhere. I didn’t ask.”

“Why not?” Nat poked him again, harder this time, and frowned. “She has a massive crush on you, and she’s smart, too. Mechanical engineer.”

Steve gave her toe a shove with his free hand and took a sip of his drink. “What would I even say to her? ‘Hey, that lift you designed for the latest AI model was really neat.’ She’d look at me like I was an idiot.”

“Well, you could _start_ by asking her what she likes to do for fun, and then go and take her to do that fun thing. Does she like to go for walks in the park? Enjoy museums? Art? Theater?” Nat put her toe right back where it had been and poked Steve with it again.

Annoyed, Steve shoved both of her feet off the sofa entirely. “It’s not that easy. I don’t even know what _I_ like anymore. I’m not good at dating, never have been, and now I’m not even good at being me.”

Nat shifted her position and planted both feet on the coffee table, crossing them at the ankles. “You might be if you stopped feeling sorry for yourself.”

Steve snorted into his drink. “I’m not feeling sorry for myself.”

“You are, and you need to snap out of it.” This time, she leaned over and poked him on the shoulder with her index finger. “As soon as we’re done with the next mission for Pierce, you’re going to ask out Janet from accounting and she’s going to say yes and you’re going to go have fun, dammit.”

“Ow.” Steve rubbed at his shoulder and tried to scowl at Nat, but it quickly melted into a grin. “Alright, I’ll do it if you’ll stop poking me.”

~*~

“What the actual hell?” Sam Wilson’s eyes widened and he slammed his foot on the brakes as a masked soldier with a metal arm crashed down on the hood of his car. Steve and Nat, who was sitting in Steve’s lap gaped in wide-eyed shock.

The Winter Soldier. Natasha had briefed them both on him the night before. “Out! Out of the car and run! I’ll distract him while you both get to safety,” Steve yelled, reaching for his shield and kicking out the passenger’s side door. 

Luckily, it worked. Steve drew the Winter Soldier’s attention. Steve already knew about the Winter Soldier’s strength and quickness due to their earlier confrontation on the rooftop, but the accuracy of the assassin’s aim took him aback. He’d only ever known one other sharpshooter who could hit a target with that sort of accuracy, and he’d fallen from a train sixty years ago.

They exchanged blows, Steve hiding behind his shield then using it as an attack when the Winter Soldier’s bullets harmlessly ricocheted away. Much to Steve’s surprise, the Winter Soldier caught the shield that he hurled at him, and flung it at Steve’s head, embedding it deeply in the door panel of a van behind him. Out of ammo, they resorted to hand-to-hand combat. The Winter Soldier wielded a short knife with finesse, but Steve countered him blow-for-blow, eventually ripping the mask off of the bottom half of his face. What he saw shocked him to his core.

Steve stood motionless, unable to process what he was seeing. “Bucky?” No. No, it couldn’t be.

Slowly, the man turned around and stared at him blankly. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

Before Steve could respond, Sam flew in with his Falcon wingpack and kicked Bucky to the ground. 

_Wait, wait! Bucky!_ , Steve thought frantically, but before he could say a word, the whole place erupted in chaos. Nat fired a rocket launcher. The Winter Soldier escaped in the ensuing smoke and debris. Hydra agents descended on them and forced Steve to his knees. Even though the world unraveled around him, Steve could only think of one thing: Bucky.

~*~

“I know him, Nat. He’s my friend.” Steve hunched over in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees. 

Natasha snorted. “Most of my friends don’t try to kill me.”

“He’s brainwashed,” Steve said with conviction. 

“Clearly.” Natasha leveled a serious look at Steve. “And it’ll take more than a minute to undo years of programming. We don’t have that kind of time, Steve. Hydra’s plans won’t wait for you to have a 1940’s style reunion. The Insight Helicarriers will kill thousands of people if we don’t stop them. You have to put aside your feelings for Bucky. He’s not your friend, not anymore. He’s a trained assassin who will stop you if you don’t stop him first.”

Steve’s jaw clenched and he dropped his gaze to his folded hands. “I know, I know. You’re right.”

“Can you do it? Can you finish the mission or do I need to ask Fury to call in Clint?”

Steve raised his eyes. “I can do it – I have to do it - but promise me that you won’t kill Bucky, no matter what happens.”

“You know I can’t make that promise,” Natasha said quietly, “but I will promise to avoid it if possible.”

“Yeah.” Steve huffed out a sigh of desperation. “I just wish there was another way.”

“So do I.” Nat reached over to squeeze Steve’s shoulder. “When Clint was under the influence of Loki, I was able to snap him out of it with a blow to the head, but if he hadn’t…I don’t think I could have killed him. When he found me years ago, he could have killed me, but he made a different choice. I’d like to think I’d make the same one.”

~*~

“I’m not going to fight you.” Steve faced the Winter Soldier, bloodied and bruised from their struggle, and he dropped his shield. “You’re my friend.”

"You're my mission. You're... my... mission!" Bucky hit Steve in the face with his fist and drew back to hit him again.

Steve’s heart plummeted. Bucky didn’t know him, might not ever know him, and if that was the case, then he had no reason to go on. "Then finish it, 'cause I'm with you 'til the end of the line."

In that instant, Steve’s words hit home. Awareness flickered behind Bucky’s wide eyes and he froze. 

That was the last thing Steve remembered until he awakened in the hospital 36 hours later.

~*~

When Steve had mentioned that he was going after Bucky, he hadn’t expected Sam to agree to come with him, yet here they were, getting ready for one hell of a road trip.

Sam packed some clothes, underwear and extra essentials in an overnight bag. “Now that we’ve established the ‘when’ part of starting to look for Bucky, I need to know the ‘how’ and don’t give me some ‘he’s my friend, I can find him’ bullshit. I need to know how.”

Steve leaned his shoulder against the doorway of the bedroom. “He gave me a compass when we were kids. I’ll use it to track him down.”

Sam shot Steve a dumbfounded look. “You really are a Boy Scout if you think you can use a compass to track the Winter Soldier. He’s managed to elude SHIELD for years and you’re gonna whip out a compass and find his slippery ass.” He snorted and zipped his overnight bag. “I’ve heard it all.”

Steve couldn’t help but grin. “It’s more than just a compass. It’s special, magical, and somehow tied to Bucky. He gave it to me when I turned twelve, and ever since then, the needle has pointed to Buck. He’s my true north.”

Sam blinked. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Because it’s true.” 

“You mean,” Sam asked slowly, “that you’ve actually used that thing to find Bucky more than once? When you had no idea where he was?”

“Yes. How do you think I found the Howling Commandos in Italy behind enemy lines? It wasn’t pure, dumb luck.” Steve’s jaw had a hard edge to it. “He’s afraid and he will run as fast as he can, but I swear to you that we’ll be a half a step behind him until he slows down, and then…”

“And then, what?” Sam perched on the end of the bed net to his bag, eyes locked on Steve. 

“I haven’t figured that part out yet,” Steve confessed, “but he knows me. He recognized me. That’s what matters. And we have to find him before HYDRA does. We have to.”

“I agree with _that_ ,” Sam said, rising to his feet. 

“That’s all I’m asking for.” Steve pushed off of the doorframe and glanced over his shoulder at his bag and shield which rested by the front door. “Let’s get going. “

~*~

It was tricky, following a highly trained assassin who’d built a reputation for being a ghost, for living in the shadows and hiding in plain sight. Between SHIELD’s intelligence and state-of-the-art surveillance technology, Steve and Sam tracked Bucky’s broad movements fairly easily. The compass, though, got them closer. 

It seemed their luck changed for the worse when Bucky was spotted in Vienna, blamed for an attack that ripped through the United Nations Building that killed twelve people. Steve decided that he needed make a move quickly. Even if Bucky had been the Winter Soldier, he wasn’t any longer. Steve had seen the shift behind his eyes. He had to find him before anyone else.

Though Steve and Sam originally headed toward Vienna, the compass directed them to Bucharest, Romania instead. Steve stayed off the grid, kept to the side streets, let the compass take him to a small flat on the north side of the city, while Sam kept a post as a lookout at a nearby street cafe.

Surprisingly, the door to the flat was unlocked. Steve raised his shield and took one wary step inside, then another. It was a small studio with a kitchenette and a bed and a desk littered with notebooks and sketches. Steve picked one up and flipped through a few pages until he saw his own name, Steve Rogers, and a list of personal details that nobody but Bucky would have known. At the bottom of the list was the question, “A friend? Something more?” Steve’s heart thumped so hard in his chest that it took his breath away.

He felt the weight of a heavy stare crawl up the back of his neck and he turned around slowly to see Bucky right behind him. 

“Do you know me?”

Recognition dawned in Bucky’s blue eyes, but he quickly hid it. “You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.”

Steve noticed the shift in Bucky’s expression immediately. “You’re lying. You pulled me from the river. Why?”

Bucky shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” Steve’s voice had the edge of someone who was desperate. “You do.”

And then all hell broke loose.

~*~

For Steve, the worst part of finding Bucky was the horrific timing of locating him just after the press had misidentified him as the man behind the Vienna bombings. Bucky had a target on his back. T’challa wanted him dead. Hydra wanted him alive. The US Government wanted him imprisoned. And, to make matters even worse, Zemo briefly captured him and managed to completely scramble Bucky’s brain so that he was little more than a walking shell, awaiting orders. It took a near drowning and a bump (or two) to Bucky’s head to reset his memories, and even then, Steve wasn’t entirely sure who was staring back at him from behind those blue eyes as they hunkered in an abandoned warehouse. 

“…Steve,” Bucky groaned, blinking rapidly in the dim light. The warehouse that Steve and Sam had brought him to smelled of dust and blood and diesel fuel. Bucky inhaled a deep breath and coughed. 

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” Steve swallowed hard and held his breath.

Bucky smiled weakly. “Your mom’s name was Sarah. You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.”

“You can’t read that in a museum,” Steve replied, relief washing through him.

Over the course of the next hour, Steve and Sam peppered Bucky with questions, learning that he was not the only super soldier and that the ones who were still left could feasibly bring an entire nation to its knees. They had to act.

“We’re on our own,” Steve said, worry etched into the frown that creased his brow.

“Maybe not,” Sam replied. “I know a guy.”

~*~

Two hours later, the three of them had checked into a non-descript hotel on the outskirts of the city to clean up. Sam paced the living area, ear to his cell phone, trying to track down Scott Lang. Steve sat on the edge of one of the double beds, waiting for Bucky to get out of the shower, elbows on his knees, his hands twisting into knots of worry. Yes, Bucky knew him, remembered him, but he wasn’t the same Bucky. The Bucky from his childhood who’d given him the compass was gone. The Bucky from the 107th that had followed him into the depths of war was dead. Who was the Bucky in the other room?

Bucky shook the last of the droplets from his wet hair as he stepped out of the bathroom. He’d put on the same dirty clothes from before, but at least he smelled better.

“We’ll find you something else to wear,” Steve began as he sat back to give Bucky his full attention.

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I have some Hydra gear stashed in a locker near the airport. Guns, ammo, clothes. I can snag them on our way.” 

The relief Steve had felt earlier washed away, replaced by cold reality. Bucky was a Hydra assassin with lockers full of gear stashed all over the world. Even if he remembered Steve and their shared past, there was still so much about him that was completely unfamiliar.

“I wish…” began Steve, but he bit it off and shook his head. It didn’t matter what he wished. This was his reality now. Guilt. Regret. Longing for what used to be.

“You wish, what?” Bucky stepped back into his dusty jeans and pulled them up over his hips. “That I was the same guy you used to know?”

Steve’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. Of course, Bucky could still read his mind. Maybe things hadn’t changed _that_ much. “I wish I had found you sooner.”

Bucky snorted and pulled his long-sleeved shirt over his head. “Don’t go there, Steve.”

“I could have, you know.” Steve let his gaze drift to the ceiling. “The compass would have led me right to you, but I didn’t know you’d survived. I should have checked the compass. I should have at least gone back to the place you fell.”

“And done what?” Bucky’s expression was somber. “Stormed an underground bunker by yourself and carry me out, princess style? If you’d found me, they would have killed us both. There’s no way either of us would have escaped alive, so stop beating yourself up about it.”

Steve gave Bucky a sharp look. “I stormed a Hydra base and rescued you before.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “One, you were not by yourself. You had the Howling Commandos to run interference. And, two, that was stupid. Why do you always run toward danger instead of away from it?”

“I was running toward you.” 

“I’m not worth it, Steve. I’m not worth any of this,” Bucky quietly replied.

Steve swallowed and replied, “To me, you’re worth everything.”

Bucky blinked, staring into Steve’s earnest eyes, until Sam broke the silence.

“Gotta move,” Sam called from the other room. “Lang’s meeting us at the airport.”

Steve climbed to his feet and shot Bucky a grin. “I’m glad this time I’ll be fighting with you instead of against you.”

~*~

For two years, Bucky slept in a state of suspended animation. The doctors in Wakanda assured Steve that it was for the best, that when Bucky awakened, they would have the ability to heal him completely, permanently. Steve wasn’t entirely sure they were telling him the truth, but he had to cling to some sort of hope. Everything else on Earth had gone straight to hell, so he had to believe something good could happen. Otherwise, what was the point of carrying on?

T’challa called Steve the moment they awakened Bucky. “The one you placed in my safekeeping is awake.”

At that particular moment, Steve was hunkered down in a shitty hotel, sitting by the window, watching the world burn. “How is he?”

“He’s well,” was T’challa’s short reply. “Come. He will want to see you.”

Steve sighed and scrubbed his hand down his face. “I wish I could, we’re on the brink of war, and I don’t want to bring the fight to your doorstep.”

“War is coming whether you bring it or not, and if I am going to fight, I wish to fight on my own terms, on my own playing field. Come to Wakanda. See your Bucky. Then we will defeat whatever shows up on my doorstep.”

Steve supposed that war was inevitable, and as a soldier, he understood the notion of fighting on one’s home turf. It was a real advantage. “Alright, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Would you mind if I brought some friends?”

“Not at all. Right now, we need all the friends we can get.”

~*~

When Steve arrived on the jet, Bucky was the first person he saw, his hair longer than he’d ever worn it, and his old arm replaced with a brand new one. Despite everything, Steve’s heart leapt and he wrapped Bucky up in a fierce hug. “How’ve you been, Buck?”

“Pretty good for the end of the world,” Bucky mumbled against his shoulder. 

That was the only conversation they had before Thanos snapped his fingers and changed everything.

~*~

Steve didn’t make the same mistake twice. The first thing he did once he returned to New York was check the compass. This time, though, the needle didn’t even flinch. Bucky truly was gone, along with half of the Earth’s population.

For the next five years, Steve and what was left of the Avengers try every single avenue possible to bring their friends and loved ones back. Clint was convinced that his family was still alive, somewhere, maybe in another realm, but Steve knew the truth. They were dead, just as dead as Bucky. Nothing short of a miracle would bring them back. That or time travel. Ironically, that’s exactly what Scott Lang suggested when he showed up unannounced at the Avenger’s compound, fresh out of the quantum realm.

For the first time in five years, Steve felt a spark of hope. 

~*~

Though the mission to save half of the Earth’s population was a success, it came with a very high price. Vision. Tony. Natasha. All of them gone, and there was no way to bring any of them back again. There was a way, though, to make at least one thing right.

Steve slipped the old compass into his pocket before he made his way to the quantum portal platform. Bruce was already at the controls, squinting at them worriedly, then gave Steve directions to return all of the stones to the exact moment he’d found them. Bucky lingered nearby, looking forlorn. Steve’s heart clenched.

“Don’t do anything stupid ‘til I get back.”

That pulled a weak smile out of Bucky. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Bucky pulled him into a fierce hug. “Gonna miss you.”

Steve smiled to himself. “It’s gonna be okay, Buck. I’m going to make sure of it.”

Bucky released him and gave him a questioning look. 

Steve squeezed his shoulder. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

~*~

 _New Jersey, 1970. US Military base._

Steve returned the Infinity Stones one at a time, carefully placing each of them in the exact space and moment from where they had been removed. He saved 1970 for last. Returning the stone to the military base was the easy part. Convincing Howard Stark to help him? Calling it difficult would be an understatement. He stashed the quantum suit in a storage room in the main research building, where nobody was likely to find it, and changed into Army fatigues. 

“Here goes nothing.” Pulling his cap low down over his eyes, he found his way back to the main lobby and eyed the building directory that was posted near the elevator. _Stark, H. Sub-level 4._ Apparently, they’d stuck Howard in the basement. Made sense. If he blew something up, no windows to shatter.

When the elevator doors opened, Steve stepped out into a vast open space and a ceiling higher than any basement ceiling he’d ever seen before. Men and women in lab coats and darted from workstation to workstation, swirling beakers and adding parts to machines and scribbling notes on spreadsheets. The entire rear wall was an enormous computer bank, all blinks and whirrs and hums. Steve had no idea what it might do, but it looked impressive.

It took a less than a minute for a scientist at the nearest workstation to realize they had an unauthorized guest. “Hey,” he said, dashing toward Steve, “you’re not supposed to be in here. Authorized personnel only.”

“I’m here to see Howard Stark.”

The scientist, who was a full head shorter than Steve, rose up on his toes in a weak attempt to appear threatening. “Mr. Stark is a very busy man. He doesn’t have time to meet with anyone!”

“He’ll see me,” Steve calmly replied. 

The scientist snorted. “And who exactly are you?”

“Captain Rogers. We’re old friends from work.”

The scientist stepped back, gave Steve a scrutinizing once-over, and then turned on his heels. “I’ll tell him, but I can’t promise he’ll agree to see you.”

A little smile tugged at the corners of Steve’s mouth. “Tell him I’ll take him to lunch. My treat. I hear he likes fondue.”

Steve didn’t have to wait long for an answer. Howard came tearing out from behind the bank of computers looking like he’d seen a ghost. Steve reckoned that to Howard, he _was_ a ghost. After all, he was supposed to be dead. They wouldn’t find his body for another few decades. 

Howard skidded to a stop right in front of Steve, his mouth going a mile a minute. “Holy shit, it is you! Cap! Steve! How? When? You’ve been missing for over twenty years and now you show up and want to get lunch?”

By this time, the entire laboratory had stopped their work and turned toward the two of them with open curiosity. 

“It’s good to see you, too, Howard, and I have a lot to explain, but could I not do it right here?” Steve made a vague sweeping gesture with his hand in the general direction of all the curious eyes fixed on them.

“Right. Right. My office,” Howard said. “Follow me.”

Howard’s office was behind the stacked computers, tucked away in a corner, and it was every bit as precise and organized as Howard, which was to say…not at all. Creative geniuses couldn’t always be bothered with clutter.

Howard moved a stack of design plans from the seat of one of his office chairs and offered it to Steve, while he sank down into his chair behind his oversized desk. He shuffled a few random electronics parts to the side of his desk, leaned forward and rested his chin on his fist.

“How?” asked Howard with a gesture toward Steve. “I knew the serum made it hard to kill you, but I didn’t know it made it impossible.”

Steve removed his cap, placed it on one of his knees and leaned back in the chair. “I don’t know the science behind it, Howard, and there are some details that I can’t tell you, but I’m here for a reason. I need your help.”

Howard frowned. “You have to admit this is weird, Cap. You’re supposed to be dead, you can’t tell me how you’re _not_ dead and you’re asking for a favor. I need a little bit more than that.”

“I’ll give you as much as I can,” Steve began, pausing to collect his thoughts. “I’m from the future.”

“The future,” Howard repeated, his eyes narrowing skeptically. “1975? 1980?”

“Try 2023.” When Howard’s jaw dropped, Steve held up his hand. “Let me finish. There was a war and our enemy possessed a weapon that could have wiped out half of the Earth’s population. The only way to defeat him was to go back in time to steal some objects of great energy. Infinity Stones.”

“Like the one we have here?” Howard interrupted.

“Yes, the exact one you have here. I just returned it fifteen minutes ago.”

Howard looked dumbfounded. “I know I keep repeating myself, but, how?”

“Hank Pym,” Steve said, gesturing over his shoulder at the rest of the lab. “His particles really work.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Howard leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands behind his head. “I’ll assume you were successful in defeating the enemy.”

“I’m sitting here across from you, so, yes,” said Steve, “but there were losses on our side. Sacrifices.” Steve’s thought’s turned to Tony. “And heroes.”

“What do you need me for? Won’t you be going back to 2023?”

“No, I’m not going back. I’m staying here, and I need for you to help me find someone.”

“If you mean Peggy Carter, I can walk you to her office.”

Steve smiled and shook his head. “Not Peggy, and please don’t tell her anything. She has her own life to live, and it’s not with me.”

“Who, then?”

“Bucky Barnes.”

Howard dropped his hands back down to the armrests and leaned forward again. “Steve, he’s dead. He fell from the train back in 1944, and unlike you, he’s not impossible to kill.”

“He’s alive, and he _is_ like me,” Steve quietly replied. “When he fell, Hydra captured him and injected him with a serum similar to the one you gave me. I found out about him when he tried to kill me sixty years later. He was able to overcome the brainwashing…with time…and I can’t help but think if I could find him now, in 1970, I could save him decades of pain and loss and heartache…”

“And murder,” Howard chimed in. “If he’s working for Hydra, I can find him. We’re tracking every movement of those bastards, know where they’ve hidden their weapons, know the locations of their labs and underground bunkers. It’ll be a process of elimination, a slow one, but I can find him. The thing is, Cap, what are you going to do once we find him? He’s probably not going to willingly come with you just because you flash that winning smile of yours.”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I suppose it depends on where Hydra is holding him and under what conditions. If he’s frozen when we find him, we’ll need to take the entire chamber.”

“You say ‘we’ like I’ve agreed to do more than locate him on a map.”

“Would you? Howard, I’m begging. I’ll do anything.”

“Stop it. Begging is not a good look.” Howard rolled his eyes fondly and nodded. “Of course I’ll help you any way I can. You know that.”

Steve smiled with relief. “I was hoping so, but it’s been a while since I saw you.”

Howard pushed back from the desk and stood. “2023, you say. Do they have flying cars yet?”

“Sadly, no,” Steve said as he climbed to his feet. “We can put a man on the moon, but we can’t get cars off the ground.”

“Truer words have never been spoken.” He clapped Steve on the back and gestured for him to follow. “Let’s go find ourselves a brainwashed super soldier.”

 _And the man who will kill you,_ Steve thought to himself. If they found Bucky now, in 1970, they could save so many lives, undo so much damage.

On the other side of the wall of computers was a workstation with a series of monitors that looked a lot like the large color television Steve had noticed in the lobby of the building. Each one displayed a different satellite feed view of particular Hydra bases. Several analysts rolled their chairs back and forth from screen to screen, jotting notes and calculations onto paper ledgers. On the side were additional monitors with radar tracking ability. Little green dots flashed as tanker trucks and airplanes moved from base to base.

“Impressive,” commented Steve. “You’re years ahead of where I imagined you’d be.”

“Nothing compared to 2023, I’m sure.”

Steve simply lifted an eyebrow.

“Right,” said Howard, once he realized Steve was not going to give him any technology tidbits about 2023. “These are the Hydra bases that we know of. They’re mostly in central Europe, but there are a few in the US. One in Buenos Aires. One in Siberia.”

“That’s the one,” Steve interjected. “Siberia. Bucky told me that’s where Hydra created and held the super soldiers, and that’s where we found them last time. All of them. Unless he’s out on a mission, he’ll be there.”

Howard reached for a large, bound ledger and flipped to a page near the back. “We’ve been tracking movements to and from the Siberian base.” He traced his finger across a horizontal line, then down a couple of cells. “Unless something has changed in the last half hour, there’s been nothing incoming or outgoing in over six months. My guess is that he’s there. Probably in a cryostasis chamber.”

He dropped the ledger back down on the desk and reached for an overstuffed file folder, full of photos and building plans and access codes. “The Siberian base is one of the largest, but, ironically, one of the least well-armed. I guess if you have sub-zero temperatures and super soldiers you don’t need quite as many ground missiles.” On a nearby table, he opened the folder and spread out the building design plans that his team had been able to covertly acquire. “The base itself is well-hidden, so for everyone else the trick would be finding it. Since you’ve been there, that’s easy. For us, the problem is getting a team inside there without being seen. Like I said earlier, there hasn’t been much activity around the base, not compared to the other bases, especially the two in Germany. They’re buzzing like hornets nests that have just been kicked.”

Steve rested his palms on the table and studied the architectural plans intently. He remembered the facility well. Only one entrance, built into the side of mountain, and it opened directly onto a spot large enough to land a helicopter. “I can get inside and run point, since I’ve been there before,” Steve said. “Give me some men to manage the cryo chamber and get it in the helicopter. I’ll need another team to provide cover while we’re loading him.”

“Not a problem. I’ll stay on the helicopter to make sure nothing goes wrong while we’re transporting him.” Howard gave Steve a sideways glance. “So do we have a plan?”

“About 12% of a plan,” Steve said with a hint of a smile, “but it’ll do.”

~*~

Over the next 24 hours, Steve and Howard hashed out the plan into something that could actually work. Howard leveraged his pull with the Army to secure three helicopters already on a US base in Europe, one specially equipped for medical rescue, and enough soldiers to provide back-up and protection. Once the plans were finalized, everything moved quickly and Steve was dropping out of a helicopter and onto the frozen ground just outside a well-hidden Hydra base, built into the side of a rocky expanse. The landing hurt just as much as it had the last time.

Steve crept forward through the swirling snow that thankfully disguised his approach. Instead of his familiar red-white-and-blue uniform, he wore a white and grey camouflage uniform that would help him blend into his surroundings. Out of habit, he reached over his shoulder to grab his shield and was momentarily taken aback when he realized it wasn’t there. This was the first mission he’d undertaken without it. Howard had offered to make him another one, but he refused. His time to carry the shield was over.

Though the base looked deserted, Steve knew that was far from the truth. He pulled his cap down over his eyes as he approached the entrance, then punched in the access code Howard had given him into the keypad next to the door. It flashed green, the doors slid open, and Steve dropped into a defensive stance. Nothing. Nobody. It was deadly silent. And hauntingly familiar. 

“I’m in,” he whispered into the communicator on his wrist. Immediately, five US soldiers slipped in behind him.

“Which way, Captain?” Five pairs of eyes locked onto him, guns drawn, awaiting orders.

Steve reached inside his jacket and pulled out the old compass that Bucky had given him years ago. It spun wildly for a couple of seconds, then pointed due east. “This way,” he said, gesturing toward a bank of elevators to the right. 

“Shouldn’t we split up? Fan out and search the facility? We don’t know where he is,” asked one of the soldiers.

Steve grinned with confidence. “Yeah we do. I know exactly where I’m going.”

The elevator took them down to the lowest level in the facility. As soon as it came to a stop, Steve glanced at his compass and said, “When the doors open, be ready for anything. The cryo chambers will be off to the right, the lab to the left.”

Oddly enough, when the doors slid open, nothing happened. The hallway was dark and quiet, a fact that worried Steve. Either the entire facility had shut down and moved or Hydra had set a trap for them. His gut told him it was the latter. “Stay close,” he whispered to the soldier next to him. “We need to check each one of the cryo chambers. Bucky could be in any of them.”

Steve crouched low and crept down the narrow hallway that opened into the main underground lab. His gut feeling had been right. It was a trap. The six cryostasis chambers were arranged in a line against the far wall. A Hydra guard was stationed in front of every single one of them, guns at the ready. Steve’s men couldn’t return fire for fear of piercing the glass of one of the chambers, at least not until they knew which chamber contained Bucky.

“Damn it,” Steve swore under his breath. He held his compass in front of him and offered up a little prayer that the needle would be very, very accurate. It spun once and then locked onto the very last chamber on the left. “Please be correct. Please be pointing to the right one.” At this point, he didn’t have any other choice but to rely on the compass.

He turned around and gestured toward the last chamber on the left. “Bucky’s in that one,” he whispered to his men. “You three sweep right and draw their attention. The rest of us will take out the guard in front of Bucky and start unhooking the chamber for transport.”

The three soldiers rounded the corner and open-fired on the guards to the right, pulling everyone’s attention to them. Steve and the other two soldiers rounded on the guard in front of Bucky’s chamber and too him down with a swift punch to the head. 

“We have ten minutes to get the chamber unhooked and out to the helicopter”, Steve hissed as a bullet screamed over his head. “Let’s get this done.”

~*~

Howard had been right about the Hydra base not being active, as most of the scientists and soldiers had been moved elsewhere and the only guards were the ones in the cryo room. As soon as they had unhooked Bucky’s chamber from the tubes and wires that kept him frozen, they rolled him out the rear of the facility and onto an awaiting helicopter.

“What about the others?” One of the soldiers glanced over his shoulder. “If they’re superassassins, shouldn’t we take them out?”

Steve climbed into the chopper next to Bucky’s cryo chamber and simply shrugged. “That’s a different mission. Ask your commanding officer what you should-“

Before Steve could finish his sentence, an Earth-shaking blast rocked the ground beneath them, and the outer walls of the base began to crumble. 

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” Steve pulled the door to the helicopter closed just as it began its ascent.

Howard crouched on the other side of Bucky, deftly connecting tubes and wires from his cryostasis chamber to a series of portable cooling tanks. “These should buy us a couple of hours, long enough to get to Switzerland. I have a cabin near Zermatt, and I’ve called in a few favors. Everything should be ready by the time we arrive.” 

Apparently, Howard’s definition of ‘cabin’ fell more in line with Steve’s definition of mansion. Though it was remote and nestled onto the side of a snowcapped mountain, it was very large and well-appointed. The helicopter landed on a concrete pad 100 yards or so from the house, and a path had been cleared of snow and ice to allow better traction for rolling Bucky’s chamber inside. A team of medical technicians ran out of the house to meet them just as the last of the gas cylinders containing the freezing agent ran empty. 

“We don’t have much time,” Howard yelled over the roar of the chopper blades. “Get him inside and hooked up!”

Howard’s team had assembled a make-shift medical room in one of the downstairs bedrooms. It had everything they needed to slowly and carefully bring Bucky out of stasis. 

Steve hung back and fretted, leaning against the bedroom doorway as the doctors began the tedious process of managing to slowly begin reanimation. “Howard, I don’t even know how to thank you for this, for everything you’ve done. I’m in your debt,” he said.

“Don’t thank me yet.” Howard joined Steve and leaned against the other side of the doorway. “Nobody knows what will happen when Bucky’s unfrozen. Hell, he could try to kill us all.”

“He won’t. He’s my friend.”

Howard gave Steve a skeptical look. “You don’t know that. What if he doesn’t remember you?”

“He will, and if he doesn’t, I’ll help him,” Steve said with quiet determination.

“Right.” Howard folded his arms across his chest. “Just be careful. Long term trauma has lasting effects, and we have no idea what Hydra did to his head. Even if he comes out of stasis as Bucky, he may flip back to being an assassin at any point in time.”

“I know that. I’ve been through it once. I’ll go through it again. I’ll do anything for him. He’s…” Steve’s voice thickened with emotion and trailed off into silence.

“You don’t have to say it. I already know. I saw the way you looked at him with hearts in your eyes.”

“He’s the best man I’ve ever known and I love him.” Steve swiped at the moisture that welled up in his eyes with the back of his hand. “He deserves a chance at a normal life.”

Howard smiled to himself. “You both do, Cap.”

~*~

The process of slowly bringing Bucky out of stasis took close to an hour, mainly because the doctors wanted to minimize the stress to Bucky’s mind and body and avoid inflicting further trauma. To Steve, it seemed like years.

Finally, once Bucky was out of the chamber and transferred to a hospital bed, the lead physician injected him with a stimulant to increase his heart rate and hopefully bring him to full consciousness.

Steve held his breath. For several moments, nothing happened, and then Bucky’s eyes fluttered open.

Nobody said a word.

“Where am I?” Bucky rasped, blinking his eyes rapidly.

“Somewhere safe,” Steve said, pushing off the doorway and walking to the side of the bed. He searched Bucky’s blue eyes for some sign of comprehension. “Do you remember your name?”

“James,” Bucky replied. “James Buchanan Barnes. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes from the 107th.” He stared hard at Steve for a second and added, “Steve? Did I get captured again?”

Steve huffed out a watery laugh and nodded. “Yeah, Bucky, you did, but we found you and we’re going to get you fixed up.”

~*~

The team of doctors conducted a full physical and mental examination. Physically, Bucky was fine, other than being dehydrated. Mentally, though, huge gaps were missing in his memory. He had no recollection of anything after falling from the train, and even that day was hazy.

“He has a long road ahead of him,” said the psychiatrist, Dr. Keller. “As his mind heals, memories will reappear, and many of them will be traumatic and frightening, given his past.” He handed Steve his card. “Call me anytime – day or night – and I’ll come over. In the meantime, let’s set up hour sessions every day so that I can monitor his progress.”

Steve studied the card and then put it in his pocket. “Thank you, Dr. Keller. What are the chances of a full recovery?”

“Every person is different and every mind reacts differently to trauma and stress. Chances are high that he will recover enough to live a full and meaningful life, but you need to recognize that he will not be the same Bucky that you knew.”

A wry smile tugged at Steve’s mouth. “I’m not the same Steve he knew. I guess we’ll get to know each other all over again.”

Howard clapped his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I need to get back to the States. Pregnant wife, almost ready to pop. She gets testy if I’m not there to rub her feet.”

Steve chuckled. “He’s a good one, Howard. You’ll be proud of him.”

“It’s a him?” Howard’s eyes sparkled. “I can’t wait to meet him. Anthony. Tony.”

“Do one thing for me, Howard? Tell him you love him. Tell him that as often as you can.”

Howard’s eyebrow lifted. “I’m not an I-love-you kind of guy, but I’ll do it for you, Cap. Maybe when he gets bigger, I can bring him to meet you.”

“No,” Steve replied with a shake of his head. “I’ve made enough changes to this timeline. He’ll meet me when he’s supposed to and not a moment sooner.”

Howard squeezed Steve’s shoulder again. “Stay here as long as you want. Everything is taken care of, right down to food delivery. And call me if you need me.”

“I owe you, Howard,” Steve said with a smile.

“You told me I’m having a son and that I’ll be proud of him. Consider that payment in full.”

~*~

The first few days weren’t so bad. Bucky mostly ate and slept, while home healthcare workers kept a careful eye on him and Steve hovered nearby. 

The weekend was a turning point. Bucky remained awake long enough to ask questions which Steve tried his best to answer truthfully, no matter how painful the answers were. For every gut-wrenching answer to a question, though, Steve tried to offer a pleasant memory. For each confirmation of an assassination, Steve countered with stories of warm, summer days in Brooklyn playing catch in the backyard. Bucky didn’t seem to react much either way, taking the bad with the good, staring straight ahead with unblinking resignation. By Saturday, Steve felt confident enough to handle Bucky’s recovery on his own. He dismissed the home health team and moved Bucky to the guest room next to his.

That night, Steve awoke with a start, his heart racing and his eye snapping open. Someone was in his room. He lay as still as he could, scarcely daring to breathe, and scanned the area around his bed. A dark shadow loomed at the foot of it. When the shadow turned, Steve caught the glint of a metal hand.

“Bucky?” Steve sat up in the bed. “What are you doing?”

“I…I don’t know,” Bucky replied with a wavering voice.

“Come here.” Steve patted the edge of the bed. “Sit down and tell me what is happening.”

Bucky sank down on the bed next to Steve’s knees and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You should have left me frozen. I’m not stable. Nightmares. Or memories. I can’t tell which, but they’re awful. Torture. Pain. Blood. So much blood.” He stared off into the darkness. “So much death. I’m a murderer.”

Steve’s heart broke, and he wanted to reach out and touch his friend, but he wondered how Bucky would react, so he didn’t move. “That’s not who you are anymore. You were brainwashed. You didn’t know what you were doing or who you were.”

“But I still did it. All of it.” Bucky turned toward Steve, his familiar features painted silver and pale in the moonlight. “What if it happens again? What if I snap and become the Asset? What if I have a nightmare and can’t wake up and kill you in my sleep?” 

“You won’t.” Steve slowly reached out and put his hand on Bucky’s metal arm. “You’re recovering more every day, and we’ll keep working until we know you’re better.”

Bucky didn’t shrug off Steve’s hand so Steve counted that as a win.

“I don’t know how you can be so confident I’ll ever be anywhere near normal,” Bucky said.

“Because I know you. Because you’ve done it once before. Because this time you don’t have to do it on your own. There will be some setbacks, but we’ll figure it out, no matter how long it takes. I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.”

Bucky’s worried features softened. “I remember that. We made a pact as kids, didn’t we?”

Steve smiled and squeezed Bucky’s arm. “Yeah, and I’m not going anywhere. It’s always been you and me, and it always will be. We’ve got nothing but time.”

“Speaking of time, it’s late. After midnight. I should probably go back to bed,” said Bucky, though he made no move to stand up.

Steve’s hand tightened on Bucky’s bicep. “Stay,” he said softly. “Please.”

Bucky nodded, just once, and shifted onto the bed so that he was sitting next to Steve, his back against the padded headboard. 

“Do you,” Steve began. His voice came out strangled, so he coughed and began again. “Do you remember…us?” He couldn’t see Bucky’s reaction in the dim light, so he held his breath, waiting, hoping.

“I didn’t know if it was real,” Bucky whispered, “or if I’d dreamed it up because I desperately wanted it to be real.”

Steve reached for Bucky’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissing Bucky’s scarred knuckles. “It was real. It is real. I’ve loved you since I was twelve years old and I’ve never stopped loving you. Not for one second.”

Bucky remained silent so long that Steve wondered if he’d heard what he’d said. 

“Even now? Even after everything I’ve done, you love me?” Bucky asked with a hint of hope that he couldn’t disguise.

“Yes,” Steve immediately replied. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why I came back for you. I’m hopelessly in love with you, and we deserve our happy ending.”

“I want that.” Bucky turned his head to look Steve in the eyes. “I want you.”

Steve’s heart clinched in his chest and he cupped Bucky’s cheek with his palm. “You have me.” Leaning in, he brushed a soft kiss over Bucky’s lips. Then another. And when Bucky’s lips parted, Steve claimed his mouth with a deep, soulful kiss that left no room for doubt how much he wanted him.

Bucky blinked when Steve broke the kiss trying to bring the sweet vision of Steve back into focus. “Don’t let me go. Don’t ever let me go.”

“Not a chance,” said Steve, leaning in to kiss Bucky again.

~*~

For a moment the next morning, Steve thought he was back in the 1940’s with Bucky tucked up against his chest and snoring softly. When his fingertips brushed over Bucky’s metal arm, he jolted back to reality. 1970. Yes, over twenty-five had passed in this timeline, but compared to the timeline Steve had abandoned, they had decades ahead of them rather than days. The threat of Thanos was gone. Howard and Maria Stark would not be assassinated, or at least not by Bucky. Life would be better. Steve could feel it in his soul.

Bucky grunted softly and snuffled against Steve’s chest. “Mmmph.”

“Good morning, sunshine.” Steve had said that to Bucky every morning during their tour of duty during WWII.

“Shut up,” came Bucky’s familiar reply. 

Steve felt lighter than air. “Not a chance.”

“Mpmh,” complained Bucky, snuggling up against Steve and throwing a leg over Steve’s waist. Steve’s cock noticed immediately and jumped to attention.

“Buck,” Steve gently warned, “are you sure you’re ready?”

Bucky raised his head, his eyes already dark with desire and nodded. “When I said last night that I wanted you, I meant it. I’m bruised, not broken, and I know what I want. You.”

Clothing flew in all directions. A shirt clung mightily to the edge of the bed. A pair of sleep pants landed on the floor with a soft whuff. Finally, the warm glide of skin against skin, mouth meeting mouth, thighs slotting together, hips moving in unison. Steve’s hand wrapped around them both, bringing their cocks together as they moved, gasping when the first sparks of pleasure ignited within him. After a few strokes, Bucky spilled into Steve’s hand and Steve followed a few moments later, breathless and panting, his pulse pounding in his ears.

“Buck,” he whispered, dropping a kiss on his lover’s full lips. “I love you so much.”

Bucky smiled into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck. “I know.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “Jerk.”

“You know I love you, Punk.”

~*~

_41 Years Later_

Steve poured a second cup of coffee and settled down onto the sofa, grabbing his laptop to review the day’s news. 

“Hey,” called Bucky as he stepped inside, shaking the snow off of his coat and stooping to pull off his all-weather boots. “I got eggs, bread and a few other things for breakfast.”

Steve turned his head and grinned. “Great. Get to cooking.” 

They’d moved out of Howard’s ‘cabin’ thirty years ago and had hopped around Europe, living off of stolen Hydra funds and support from Stark Industries. Right now, they were holed up in a luxury condo in Reykjavik, Greenland, where nobody batted an eye at Bucky’s long hair or Steve’s love of khaki pants. They’d stay a few years until someone noticed that they never seemed to age, and then they’d move on. Time was on their side.

While Bucky began cracking eggs to scramble and added bread to the toaster, Steve turned back to his laptop. Yesterday was the day 41 years ago that he’d rushed into traffic in Times Square and the world realized that Captain America was alive. Due to the time zones, he wondered if his escapades in NYC would hit international newsfeeds this morning. Would he pull up CNN.com to find a photo of himself looking bewildered, accompanied by the headline, “Captain America Alive!” or not?

Just as he was about to open Google, a hand flipped the case of his laptop closed. “Stop it,” chided Bucky. “You said when the day came, you wouldn’t overanalyze everything, but here you are all up in it.”

Steve sighed and shot Bucky a look of irritation. “I’m curious is all. Can’t you let me read in peace?”

“No, because you are going to angst about every single fucking detail – or lack of detail - and I’ll have to live with it,” grinned Bucky. “I can’t stop you, and I know you’re gonna read every detail about the other you from now until eternity, but we will eat a nice breakfast first.”

Steve smiled in spite of himself. “Whatever you say, Buck. It’s your world. I just live in it.”

Bucky thumped him on the forehead with his forefinger. “Damn right. You get one hour after breakfast find out about all things Steve and then we hit the fishing boat with Helmut. No argument.”

“Alright,” but Steve’s eyes were already back on his laptop, his fingers itching to open it. 

“Hey,” said Bucky, taking Steve’s hand. “If there is another Steve in this timeline, all of that belongs to him. Let him make his way. Your life is here, with me.”

Steve lifted his eyes to meet Bucky’s and sighed. “And if there isn’t another Steve? If it’s just me? What then?”

Bucky kissed Steve’s knuckles and gave his hand a squeeze. “Then we sit back at a safe distance and watch the Avengers assemble without you. The world won’t stop spinning if there’s not a Cap, and you’ve paid your dues. You helped save the world once. You don’t owe anyone a damned thing.”

“I think that’s what I needed to hear,” Steve said with a little smile.

“Go wash your hands and help me with the bacon,” Bucky said over his shoulder as he turned back toward the kitchen.

“Be right there.” Steve made a move to stand when his eyes caught a glint of something shining on the coffee table. The sun hit the brass compass at just the right angle to catch his attention. His smile was fond as he picked it up and flipped open the top. The little red needle spun for a moment and then pointed sharply to the right, in the direction of the kitchen.

“I know, I know,” he said to the compass. “I’m where I belong.”


End file.
